Three Steps
by Ian D UK
Summary: Late 80s Prequel Ships pass in the night on an early Rayner James tour
1. Chapter 1

3 Steps

 _ **A/N My first try at Fan Fiction - a prequel in the late 80's inspired by Juliette's line that her mother listened to Rayner James music when pregnant.**_

Step 1

A warm, salutary early summer's evening in Alabama. Deacon wasn't even sure of the name of the town. It was the one after Birmingham and the one before Athens on the schedule. 26 Southern towns in 30 nights, criss-crossing the state lines at the whim of a promoter's pen. The schedule was gruelling, but strangely it was the night offs that hurt the hardest. On the road there was a rhythm, travel, food, show, sleep; travel, food, show, sleep, rinse and repeat. On the bus Deacon would play a few hands of cards with the boys, down some beers and lie in the bunk, as the rumble of wheels on the interstate lulled him to dreamless sleep. That part was easy. Even the beers were not a problem, Deacon always knew when to stop, and he knew that Bucky, Ray's road manager, noticed everything. If Deacon failed, word would get back to Watty White, and work for a jobbing guitarist in Nashville would disappear like smoke on the breeze.

No it was the days off that knocked you out of time. That moment when every nerve in your body told you it was time to go on stage, feel the love and buzz, a million times better than bourbon, even in some two-bit town; except tonight there was no show, it was just you, four walls and the adrenaline. Which was why the 4 walls that currently surrounded Deacon Claybourne contained a bar, while in front of him were shot glasses, both full and empty, and an untouched portion of chicken. This was by no means the first tour he had done with Rayna James, but it was the biggest, promoting the album Edgehill believed would help break her nationally. It was a long slog. Rayna had been doing radio and press, on her supposed day off, so he couldn't spend time with her song writing. And Deacon wanted to spend as much time as possible with the sassy, confident red-headed women that he was rapidly falling completely and totally in love with. Not just a companion for the road, but someone who made him feel alive, someone he could share his dreams and darkest thoughts with, well almost all of them.

Lynyrd Skynyrd was playing on the jukebox, Deacon downed another shot in one. This tour had to work, Ray's profile was increasing, but she wasn't the only hot shot on the scene. Luke Wheeler for instance, and man with basic guitar skills, too much hair, too big a hat and talked about horses all the time. Couldn't decide if he wanted to be a hippy or red-neck, yet his six gun brashness had got him signed to a major label and a support slot for the Southern dates of the Glenn Fry tour. Meanwhile Deacon was being offered only the possibility of work, maybe with Willie, maybe with Waylon, maybe, or maybe not. The jukebox clicked over to _Freebird_ , an all-time classic. Deacon hated the song. Oh, he could appreciate the structure of it, but the guitar solo went on forever, something alien to him. Though could rock out with the best of them, Deacon prided himself on always knowing when to stop, step back from the spotlight and give it to those who really had something to say. He signalled a passing waitress for more whiskey. Yes Deacon Claybourne always knew when to stop, and tonight he would stop, just one glass after he'd had too much.

Step 2

Sitting on a stool at the bar was a dirty blonde wearing an old but jazzy dress. She too stared at her drink, her mind buzzing, missing stimulation, just as much as the man's a few feet away. Jolene's life was chaotic and colourful, but what had shocked her into her latest period of cold turkey was the news of her pregnancy. For over a month now she had been clean, OK nearly clean. One advantage of the situation was she had a little spare cash and last night had treated herself to a front row seat at the Rayna James concert. An evening to get lost in music and stop worrying about what she would tell Eddie when he returned to base. What a night. Inside the darkened auditorium the outside world simply did not exist, there was only the cool strokes from the air-con and the sweet sound of steel strings and harmonies. Hearing Rayna live was an experience, the subtle light and shade in her voice that never made it through the radio or her cheap record player, she pulled you into the songs, sent you on a ride and let you down gently on the other side. Her guitarist, so strong and good looking was like a rock, providing the landscape for Rayna s voice to dance around. There was a magnetic spark between them and when he solo'd and she sashayed the rest of the band seemed to melt away into the background, while above the spotlights gleamed as if every star in Alabama was focused on the two of them. That evening Jolene had sworn to herself she would sing her baby to sleep with lullabies every night.

But that was yesterday, today the woman was still pregnant, still craving and still needing a distraction, the bar was near and she had a few dollars in her purse. She glanced at a table where a man was sitting, who looked a little like Rayna's guitarist from the night gone. Only this guy wore a baseball cap low, his stubble glistened with sweat, his jeans unwashed and there were holes in his sneakers. Jolene knew the type from so many alley's and downtown apartments, it was lightyears from the confident, man with the subtle smile who coaxed magic from his guitar. The jukebox changed again, to _Gimme_ _3 Steps_.

Step 3

A little unsteady on her heels Jolene came down from the barstool and headed for the restroom. As she neared the table of the man with the baseball cap she slowed and swayed, could it be? No. At the same moment the man rammed down his last glass, pushed back his chair, on rising nearly cannoned into Jolene. The Walkman hanging from his jeans fell to the floor, its batteries flying one way the cassette another.

"What the.." mumbled Deacon

"I'm sorry," said Jolene, "my fault, can I buy you a drink? Or something to eat? You've hardly touched that chicken and the food here's really not that bad. In fact the special is very reason…"

"You know what," said Deacon cutting though her prattles, "Why don't you just take your sorry and park it some-place else? I don't need your help, or your sympathy. I'm fine, the food, was fine and tomorrow I will be a long way from this town, which is fine by me." Deacon grabbed the tape player and batteries and headed for the exit.

Jolene's breathing slowly returned to normal. From under the table she kicked out the cassette and read the neatly handwritten label "Mix Tape 8 – For Ray."


	2. Chapter 2

3 Steps Chapter 2

A/N Still going with Juliette's glorious put-down from pilot about her mother playing Rayna Jaymes records while Juliette in her belly, though Wikipedia (which is of course never wrong) has Juliette born in 1988 and Rayna's first LP 1990. So I am probably giving Rayna a few more years than she would have admitted to in her biog. Thanks to everyone who has stopped by to read.

Step 1

Rolling home, with just 2 nights to go. Tonight's performance and then a pretty much direct drive along Highway 40 to Nashville. Deacon disentangled his body from the bus bunk and made himself as presentable as he could at 8.30am . On discovering Rayna's incredibly immaculate master bedroom was empty, he passed by the sleeping drummer and bass player, the latter snoring heavily and stepped off the still ticking tour-bus, parked up in the lot of a diner. At a booth just by the door he found Rayna, coffee, pancakes and bacon. This was good, but he also found Bucky and his inevitable itinerary. Deacon massaged the cramp out of his legs, half listening to the earnest man.

"So we got Radio at 10:30 – Davy Freeman of W-O-L-D, a record store signing at lunchtime, sound check at 5pm and showtime at 8."

"Yes Sir" replied Rayna and saluted. "You know I am going seriously miss the buzz of doing all this next week, and having someone organise my life for me."

"Enjoy the downtime." Bucky said, "West coast starts next month, and Watty is hoping to sort us out 'you know who' for the fall."

"Well it will seem strange sleeping in my own bed for the first time in a month" Rayna continued. There was a splutter of coffee onto the Formica table. "Awe com'on Deac, you know what I mean."

Deacon stared at a small lake of maple syrup, whishing desperately that Rayna would be sharing his bed.

"It's 10:32 and 78 degrees on this blue sky Friday morning. You're tuned to W-O-L-D and the morning show with me Davy Freeman, today we have a special guest with us, the country singer Rayna Jaymes who is playing in town tonight. Rayna welcome"

"Hi Davy, it's so nice to be with y'all."

Deacon sat at back of the beige studio, watching Rayna turn on the charm, to the guy with the mullet and motor-mouth

"Your album 'Cowgirls Love Too Hard' went silver last week while you were out on the road"

"I know, we are all so excited about that, and really proud that the hard work put into making the record has paid off with something people want to go out and buy. It means a lot"

"This is the first time you have headlined a tour, how's that working out?"

"It's wonderful Davy, I get to expand my setlist, try out some new songs I've been writing and of course showcase new talent as my opening act."

"Do you find touring and being away from home hard Rayna?"

Deacon knew that home meant a house share with 2 other girls and not the expensive and privileged upbringing of the Wyatt family homestead, but Rayna seemed to sidestep the question with natural ease.

"Of course touring is tough, but it's wonderful to get out there, meet with my fans and see the pleasure on their faces from stage every night."

"It's a long tour isn't it?"  
"Yes, we have a bit of a break coming up then some dates out West including a couple of festivals in California. After that I want to take my music to the Mid West and wind up in New York City."

From behind the control room glass Bucky's genial face froze. Both Rayna and Deacon could see his worried look over Davy's shoulder as the DJ jumped in.

"So the rumour is true, you are going to be touring supporting George Strait?"

Rayna gave a laugh, "Well Davy, I'd love to be able to give y'all an exclusive here and now, but a whole bunch of people have to talk with a whole other bunch of people before anyone tells me where we are playing next. Little ol' me is always the last to know."

Davy grinned, "Alright! We'll be right back with Rayna Jaymes after these messages."

"Tell us about how it started for you Rayna?"

"I guess singing has always been what I wanted to do. When my Daddy was at work my Mamma would sing the classics around the house, Patsy, The Carters…" Deacon zoned out in the airless box of a studio, just another box between one stage and the next one. Jumping through the publicity hoops was something he was very happy to leave to Ray. On tour if he wasn't playing or writing it was all dead time to Deacon. Chasms that had to be filled with something. It was Davy's next question that bought him back to the here and now.

"Will you play something for us now? Then take a few calls from our listeners?"

"Of course, I've brought my guitarist Deacon along and we have something we'd love to play"

"You don't play guitar yourself Rayna?"

"Oh Davy, if you heard me play I swear you would never buy another Rayna James record in your life!"

"OK, well here with Deacon Claybourne is Miss Rayna James

Deacon was strumming chords on his acoustic as Rayna got up to join him at the centre microphone.

"This is one written by Deacon, called 'A Life That's Good'"

Deacon was proud of the song, it had gone down really well every night, some of the lyrics were a perhaps a little too Apple Pie, but it was right for Rayna's market and they both knew it. The duo drew closer together at the single mic for the chorus and their eyes locked. Deacon's mind asked himself the same question it did every night of the tour, could A Life That's Good, be a life with Rayna Jaymes?

"Just gone 11AM and this is Davey Freeman on W-O-L-D, with me is Rayna Jaymes and we have a question for you from Cathy on line 1"

"Hi Rayna, I wanted to know what's it like being the only girl on the tour bus?"

"Oh Gosh, well the guys are very sweet to me and I've got my own little girl space at the back of the bus with all my make-up and nail polish."

"So all that testosterone at close quarters," said Davy, "doesn't tempt you?"

Rayna pushed the question away, "We're far too busy for anything like that young man. But I am looking forward to seeing my girlfriends, and catching up on all the gossip. You know I've not seen the season finale of Moonlighting yet, can you believe it?"

Step 2

The staff room of Sam Goodies had been given over to Rayna and her small entourage as a pre signing relaxation zone. Deacon entered carrying sandwiches.

"Food," he managed sullenly.

Rayna turned in her chair to face him. "Suppose you tell me just what the hell is eating you, you've hardly said a word since we left the radio station?"

"How do you manage it Ray?" he replied, answering her question with another. "How can you talk to those people every day like nothing is ever the tiniest bit wrong in the world, and make it sound that you are so happy to meet a 2 bit DJ from honksville you will never see again in your entire life?"

"I gotta play their game," she said, "For Bucky, for Watty and for me. And just maybe one of those stupid DJs will wind up on a networked TV talk show in years to come. Not everything can be three chords and the truth."

"And us Ray, is that a lie too?" Deacon knew he was pushing it, but the tension had been building up in him like a storm on an August night, he had to let it earth at some point.

"What do you mean?"

"That I'm currently sharing my life touring with the most talented, the deepest and the most beautiful woman I've ever known; and outside of the music you hardly look at me. Because like you said to that jerk with the ego, you're too busy for anything more."

Rayna put down her food, "Deacon, what we share is special, on stage and when we're deep into song writing, it's like nothing I've ever known before. But I don't want to risk any that with a stupid fling that may break us apart."

"Got it, now I understand. Well I'll be down in the store, being your security, or prop, or whatever it is you want be to be. I thought we were developing something real Ray, but it's all just Rhinestones and stardust to you."

He left the room pushing past the ascending road manger on the stairs.

"Problems Rayna?"

"Nothing I can't handle Buck. He'll be alright after a long shower and a cold beer." At this moment she felt she loved and hated Deacon equal measure, while another part of her mind stored away "Rhinestones and Stardust" as a killer song title.

There was a queue of about 30 people stretching away from the signing table to the left of the record shop counter. Rayner's smile clicked into place,"Hi y'all thank you so much for waiting."

Presently a youth of about 18 who had been third in the line approached the tall man standing to the side of table. This younger man was wore a denim jacket with a national guitar patch tacked to the back

"You're Deacon Claybourne."

"Who wants to know"

"I was at the show last night, it was amazing, so I skipped class and drove all night here, just to get my Rayna James album signed by the lady herself."

Deacon couldn't help but crack a lopsided grin. Only last night when talking with the boys on the bus the drummer bragged he's recently done a session with Roy Orbison, laying down a great track called 'I Drove All Night' The kid had no idea.

"That song you did with the Ovation, is that using different tuning?"

"Yeah open C, you noticed?"

"I'm learning guitar, nowhere near your league but it's good fun."

Meanwhile Rayna was working through the queue, a man in his mid 20s, in a shirt and tie was next, office worker on lunch break Rayna guessed.

"Hi, who shall I sign too?"

"Lawrence William Ford ma'am," he said, "but my friends just call me LW."

The woman picked up her black marker pen, 'To LW, love Rayna Jaymes.' "Thanks so much for coming out."

She glanced at her guitarist still talking to the teenaged boy, then onto the next face, "Hi Honey."

"I can't believe I'm actually meeting Rayna James, I'm a real big fan, just love your hair and clothes."

"So you seeing the show tonight?"

The boy looked at his cowboy boots. "Not got a ticket and I kind of used the last of my cash to get here."

Deacon made a decision, if he was being the big shot guitar player he could for once act like it. "Hey Bucky," he called. "Can you sort out a ticket for my friend here, came all the way from… From wherever the hell it was we were last night, to get his album signed."

At the Fedex office "Mr Ford" handed over a 12 inch square package marked Fragile.

"Next day service please"

The label read Mr Lamar Wyatt, C/O Wyatt Industries…"

Step 3

Sundcheck was fragmented. Rayner constantly complained about the level of bass in her monitor and Deacon broke a guitar string. While he was fixing it, the bass player and drummer locked into a groove that Deacon, with his instrument restored to 6 strings joined in with, jamming the old Johnny Cash song 'Ballad of a Teenage Queen' Rick the bassist stepping up to the mic to sing. Rayna stood at the side of the stage with Bucky, swinging her hips but feeling strangely excluded from the male trio. Was this how it would always be? Rayna Jaymes and her band, the faces of the boys could be chopped and changed because she was the attraction, the one folks paid money to see. Rayna shivered, the last few weeks had shown her that she could not conceive doing any of this without the support of Deacon Claybourne.

"Well I sure hope the show goes better than that did," Deacon said to Rayner's left ear.

"It will, we're just road weary. But if everything does all fall apart at least I can earn five bucks doing backing vocals for a covers band."

They stood in the sunlight by the stage door, Deacon lit up a Marlboro, knowing Rayna hated the smoke and smell but not caring.

"Home soon," he said.

"Back to cooking my own meals, going to the mall, and deciding what songs to lay down for the demo Edgehill are already asking about."

"And then, West coast."

"I know, more traveling, cheap motels and crap food on the move. Why do we do it Deac? Can't live with it, can't live without it."

"You know why Ray, you said it yourself on the radio. It's in the front row fans' eyes and the spotlight on stage. The music is in you, a part of you and I know you're not going to stop pushing until you've done everything you can to get it out there. You're a born performer Darlin'."

"Well right now I'm shattered, I'm going for a lie down on the bus."

After Rayner had gone Deacon went back into the deserted dressing room. He flicked through a copy of Rolling Stone but the articles weren't going in. There were2 choices and Deacon tried hard not to think about the miniatures of Jack and bottle of mouthwash in his washbag. He picked up the guitar. Soon his fingers found a familiar chord pattern, inspired by the boy in the record shop. Deacon sang softly.

"Pretty Woman – stop awhile."

Rayna too found she could not settle, sprawled on the bed she reached for her bag and her journal. With much crossing out she started to write:

The lights upon the stage are like

A blazing noon day sun

That moment in the chorus

When two turn into one

On a rainy early morning

The wipers move in time

Blades skate along the windshield

But never intertwine

You give me reason

You give me wings

I gave you rhinestones and stardust

And tell you we're friends


	3. Chapter 3

3 Steps Chapter 3

 _ **A/N Final part of this story, there may be a follow up at some point. Grateful thanks to everyone for taking the time and trouble to read.**_

Step 1

"Conran! What are you doing Friday night?"

Teddy, not wanting to tell is boss that Linda in accounts had turned him down for a date tried to sound nonchalant. "Think I'll have a quiet one, I'm planning on going for a run Saturday morning."

"Good, then I'm not interrupting anything important, because you're coming with me to the Bluebird Cafe and looking after Mr Sanderson."

Despite being born in Nashville, Teddy's musical taste did not stretch much beyond Bruce Springsteen.

"The Bluebird Café?"

"Let's talk in my office." The two of them entered a small room, a shrine to dark fake wood, glass and chrome.

"You may not care for country music much son, but Mr Sanderson, who's on the verge of signing something very big, loves it, and a trip to the iconic Bluebird will just about seal the deal. Now I'm going to need a wing man for this and you're it."

"Who is performing?"

"Young lady called Rayner Jaymes, I don't expect you've heard of her but she's pretty hot stuff on the country scene. Just got back from a tour, so this is a kind of coming home small scale gig, trust me the old buffer will be in heaven watching her, and all you have to do is make sure his glass is always full. Give some good ol' Southern hospitality."

"OK, I guess" in truth Teddy knew he hadn't much of a choice in the matter.

"Listen to me, you want to play with the big boys, this is your chance to be there at the closing of a major contract. Keep your eyes and ears open and you just might learn something. Plus I'll be relying on you to come out with all those statics you keep bugging me with; when I give you the nod. This won't be forgotten come bonus time, promise."

"Alright, and thank you."

"No problem, just one more thing, as I'll be matching the client drink for drink, you will need to drive us all to the show and back to his hotel, in my Dodge. Hell, you can even borrow her for the weekend, that should impress the ladies."

"Chauffer, waiter and memory bank? I thought I was supposed to be your assistant"

"It's called being a team player son."

Step 2

The knocking on Deacon's apartment door was not going away however much he tried to ignore it. Who could be wanting him at the unsociable hour of…. He checked the bedside digital clock radio, 11.13am? Deacon climbed into a pair of crumpled jeans and went to shut the door up.

"Hey" said Rayner.

"Hey yourself."

"Can I come in?"

"Makes more sense than me leaving my door open."

Rayner took in Deacon's open plan living area, pizza boxes on the floor, coffee mugs and beer cans strewn around, papers and magazines on the old coach, the only oasis of organisation were his guitar cases, propped against the wall next to the record player and LP collection.

"How you doing?" She asked

"All good here."

"I can see?" she cast her arms about.

"I'm not one for homes and gardens Ray, you know that."

"But Deacon, you've not been home a week and look at the place."

"I've been getting the road out of my system." He said lamely, "I'll tidy before the Bluebird show."

"That's what I came over to talk about. I think we should revamp the set list a bit."

"What did you have in mind?"

"Well, I thought open with 'Wishing' and play 'A Life That's Good' before we break. Here"

She handed over a notepad with the set written in neat schoolgirl handwriting.

He glanced at it, "Can you swap 4 and 5 over so I don't have to tune down twice?"

"Sure."

"And since you got me up, do you want coffee?"

"Only if it's fresh!"

They talked show details for a while, what material would work best in a working bar rather than a sit down theatre.

"You know," said Rayner at last, "I am glad we had that conversation after the radio show and store signing."

"You are, when I told you..."

"You said some very flattering things, but it would have been stupid to do anything rash on tour"

"Absolutely."

She moved a little closer, "immature."

"Irresponsible."

"Reckless." She took his hand in her two.

"Plain dumb."

"So now we've been through all that, we can handle this thing as adults, we know now how it works right?" The notepad fell to the floor.

Deacon wasn't sure he knew anything anymore, "What are you saying Ray?"

"That last week was the first time you ever called me Darlin' and I don't want it to be the last." She kissed his amazed face and laughed. "Excuse me. You don't think I can pursue a rising career in country music and hold down a relationship with the most precious guitarist in town? What sort of woman would I be if I couldn't multi-task?"

"A damn fine one, always." The kiss was longer this time. "The bed's not been made," said Deacon, "but it should still be warm."

"Mmmm."

"And about to get a whole lot hotter," he added to no one in particular.

Step 3

From the side shadows the view of the Bluebird's stage is a little obscured. The place hums with clinking glass and the breath of conversations. A man in baggy jeans taps the centre microphone and twiddles a knob on an amp at the rear, its one red light shining out of the darkness like a motorcycle's tail. Snatches of close by talk become more distinct.

"Such a great album."

"It'll be fine, Mom thinks I'm at Sandra's"

"Wow, actually inside the famous Bluebird"

"And here come's Teddy with more drinks."

Jolted by the passing young man everything swirls out and back into focus, the MC is on stage.

"Ladies and Gentleman, back home from the first part of her headlining tour, put your hands together for Miss Rayner Jaymes." Applause and whoops crackle, echoes distort.

Rayner wears a white gypsy top, Daisy Dukes and strappy heels. Deacon in double denim hoists the guitar strap around his neck and checks the tuning. Quietness slowly descends.

"Put your tongue away son, she may have fallen out with her Daddy, but she's Wyatt stock, out of your league."

Suddenly the random strumming turns into a driving freight train rhythm, Rayner sways, puts one hand on the microphone stand, looks around and smiles.

"Ahh wishing. Wishing I was any place than here…"

Music pours from the stage into every willing receptacle. Emotions shudder and hair stands on end. The bitter sweetness of the upbeat tune and lonesome lyric weaves its magic and the aura of two people doing what they do best is spellbinding. Stage-side a man with kind eyes and prematurely thinning hair scans the room. He moves forwards.

"Hey no cameras, she's a signed recording artist."

The view swoops from stage to a pair of chinos and boots and the screen turns black.

Lamar Wyatt put down his crystal whiskey tumbler and went to take the tape from the VCR.

"Oh Rayna" he said, the voice was soft, husky, maybe tinged with regret. In a quick movement he opened the cassette and pulled at the film of tape inside, sending it into tangled metallic loops before he threw the mess into the waste paper basket for the maid to clear in the morning.

The man turned out the study light and shut the door behind him, but softly so as not to wake his daughter Tandy, asleep upstairs.


End file.
